The Sequin Star (16 page)

Rosina swept her arm out towards the view and the glimmering lights. ‘It has been the most wonderful evening,' she said. ‘Thank you, Kit. I'll never forget today and this fabulous party. We don't get invited to balls very often.'

‘My pleasure,' Kit replied. ‘I've enjoyed your company very much.'

Claire glanced back inside. Larry came into the ballroom in his chauffeur's uniform and glanced around, looking for them. ‘Larry's here already,' she said.

Mr Hunter was talking to some friends near the doorway. He turned to Larry and asked him a question. Claire thought she saw Mr Hunter's face darken at Larry's reply.

‘We'd better go in then,' Kit suggested. ‘I don't want to keep him waiting.'

Reluctantly, Rosina took off Kit's jacket and handed it back. Kit shrugged it on, did up the button then took Rosina's gloved hand and tucked it under his arm.

The four strolled inside and crossed the parquet floor. Mr Hunter marched forward and grasped Kit by the shoulder. He glared at Rosina, Jem and Claire. Rosina drew away.

‘What's this that Jenkins says about your friends?' hissed Mr Hunter. ‘Jenkins said you've asked him to drive them back to the
circus
. He said they are
performers
.' This last word was spat out with disgust.

Claire shrank back, hearing the venom in his voice. Mr Hunter looked at her as though she was some loathsome insect that had crawled in from the garden. Jem slouched, hands in his pockets. Rosina stood tall in her gorgeous crimson dress, her eyes flashing defiantly.

‘Father,' Kit began. ‘They're my friends –'

‘I will not have vagabonds like that in my house,' Mr Hunter insisted. ‘They are not respectable people.'

Jem flushed a dark, angry red and looked ready to protest. Claire felt completely humiliated.

‘Father,' Kit replied. ‘That's not true.'

‘Get out of my house,' Mr Hunter spat at Claire, Rosina and Jem. ‘Jenkins will not be driving you. It sounds like he has done far too much of that already.'

Mr Hunter turned to Kit. ‘Christopher, I forbid you to see these gypsies again.
Do you hear me
?'

As Mr Hunter's voice rose, a number of guests had turned to see what was going on. Claire felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

‘I heard you, Father,' Kit murmured, his face white.

‘I will talk to you about this in the morning.' Mr Hunter dropped his voice again. ‘I realise you have been on your own a lot since school finished, but you should be mingling with people of your own kind.'

Kit threw a look of despair towards Rosina and Claire.

Mr Hunter turned towards them. With icy calmness he looked them over once more, then spun on his heel and walked away. He stopped at the doorway and spoke to Larry, who nodded his head, shot a look at Kit, then left the room.

‘I'm so sorry,' Kit said. He could hardly meet their eyes. ‘I cannot believe he behaved like that. It is unforgiv­able . . .'

Jem dug his hands deeper in his pockets. ‘Cripes, did you think your father wouldn't notice that we were ordinary? That he wouldn't smell the stink of poverty?'

Rosina's eyes glinted in the light. She blinked rapidly. ‘Thank you, Kit,' she said with great dignity. ‘We must go now.'

Claire thought she carried herself like a duchess. Rosina walked towards the door, her head held high and her long skirts swishing. Claire tried to copy her demeanour, but really she just felt like crying.

Kit looked crushed too. He accompanied them to the front drive. Larry was out the near the garage.

‘I'm sorry, sir,' said Larry. ‘Your father said I'm not allowed to drive your guests back.'

‘I understand, Larry,' Kit said, dejected. ‘Goodnight.'

‘Goodnight, sir,' Larry answered as he walked back towards his apartment over the garage.

‘Larry, would you be so good as to bring the car around for me in the morning?' Kit asked. ‘I have an early errand I need to run – say, at half-past eight?'

Larry paused and nodded. ‘Of course, sir.' He turned and walked away.

‘Rosina, I am so sorry,' Kit began. ‘My father . . . Well, my father and I don't always see eye to eye. He can be very old-fashioned.'

Rosina inclined her head without meeting his eyes.

‘I'll come and see you all tomorrow morning,' Kit promised. ‘I do want to talk to you about my charity lunch. I would really like to organise a circus performance for a group of needy children. I'll see you about eleven?'

‘Goodnight, Kit,' Claire whispered. ‘See you tomorrow.'

‘We have a lot to do tomorrow,' warned Rosina.

Rosina stared at the white roses, ghostly in the darkness. Jem kicked his foot against the white gravel, scuffing his black shoes.

‘I'll walk you,' Kit offered awkwardly. ‘Make sure you get home safely.'

Rosina tossed her head. ‘Don't, Kit. Just don't.'

Rosina began walking, her heels slipping on the glassy gravel. Jem hurried after her, his bow tie pulled loose and his hair mussed. Claire stared back at Kit imploringly.

‘Claire,' Kit whispered. ‘I promise I'll come tomorrow. I'll be there as soon as I can.'

Claire whispered goodbye then turned and hurried after Rosina and Jem. Once out of sight of the house, Rosina took her crimson shoes off to walk barefoot. Claire did the same, walking gingerly on the rough road.

The scene with Kit's father in the ballroom played and replayed in her head.
How could he be so rude? How could he be so narrow-minded?

After a couple of kilometres, Claire noticed that Rosina was limping badly.

‘Is your knee sore?' asked Claire. Rosina looked pale in the moonlight, like an ice queen. She shook her head and limped faster.

By the time they had walked for an hour, Claire and Jem had to support Rosina on either side as she hobbled along. It was one o'clock in the morning when they finally stumbled onto the lot. Claire had nasty blisters on her heels and bruises on her soles. She felt numb with exhaustion.

The camp was quiet, with all the performers asleep in their caravans. Jem said a very subdued goodnight to Claire and Rosina, who could still hardly speak. Rosina carried herself tall and proud until she had undressed and crawled into bed. It was only later when the light had been out for a long time that Claire thought she heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from Rosina's bunk.

The next morning it was jobs as usual, which seemed hard after the excitement of the day before. Rosina was being bright and cheerful, limping around the lot as though the ugly scene at the ball had never happened. Claire tried to talk to her about it but was gently brushed aside. There was no sign of Kit's promised visit. Claire kept half an eye on the entrance to the lot, expecting the black limousine to pull up at any moment.

It was Sunday so there was no performance planned. The girls were busy feeding the monkeys and Jem was raking out the cage when Flash Frank wandered over.

Lula was dangling upside down from one of the swings. She reached out and in a moment was clinging to the top of Jem's head.

‘How did you enjoy the celebrations yesterday?' asked Frank, leaning on his shovel. ‘Did you get a good view?'

‘We saw everything,' said Jem, gently peeling Lula off and putting her on the ground. ‘We were sitting right next to all the dignitaries.'

‘Captain de Groot was pulled off his horse directly in front of us,' Rosina added.

‘It's a shame I wasn't closer,' said Frank. ‘I could have thrown the fascist mongrel off the bridge.'

The four chatted about the opening celebrations. Claire was glad that Frank hadn't been able to start trouble on the bridge. She could imagine him instigating a riot right in front of the VIP dais.

‘I heard you spent the day with that townie who's been hanging around the lot?' asked Frank.

‘Yes,' replied Claire. ‘Kit Hunter – he asked us to be his guests.'

‘You should be careful mixing with that type,' advised Frank. ‘I've heard his father is high up in the New Guard.'

‘Who told you that?' asked Rosina.

Frank tapped the side of his nose. ‘Oh, just a little birdie. I've heard he's in tight with Campbell.'

‘Eric Campbell was there last night,' Jem said. ‘He was boasting about his massive secret army and how they were ready to defeat the communist revolution – or more likely stage a coup and overthrow our own democratically elected government.'

‘Eric Campbell is a lunatic,' Rosina agreed. ‘But Kit's all right. His heart is in the right place.'

Jem snorted. ‘Well, we certainly had a taste of how the filthy rich live in luxury while we all starve.'

‘Really?' asked Frank.

Jem described the supper from the night before. Rosina added in the details of the mansion on the harbour.

‘You should have seen the artwork,' Jem continued. ‘Original paintings in every room. It all must be worth a bloomin' fortune.'

‘Where does he live?' asked Frank.

‘It's a huge house called Beaumont at Kirribilli,' Claire replied. ‘It's beautiful.'

‘Lucky chap,' Frank observed. ‘Well, Roy and I are off to see the rabbit skin merchant. Have you loaded your pelts on the truck yet, Jem? I'm hoping we'll get a beaut price for them all.'

15
Visit to Beaumont

After the monkeys there were the horses and elephants to tend to. Jem set off by tram to visit his family at Happy Valley. Many of the other circus workers had headed off into the city for the day. Alf was giving his three children riding lessons on the miniature ponies in the ring. Frank and Roy drove off in one of the small circus vans, laden with rabbit pelts.

Rosina pushed a flick of her fringe back from her forehead. ‘I thought you might like to come for a ride,' she suggested. ‘We could go down to the harbour and take the horses for a swim.'

Claire glanced over towards the road. There was still no sign of Kit. He had promised to come over in the morning.

‘I'm not a very good rider,' Claire confessed. ‘I've only ridden a few times.'

‘The horses are so well trained, it's like sitting in an armchair,' Rosina urged. ‘Come on – it will be fun. The horses love swimming, and we can ride out in the water bareback.'

Claire reluctantly agreed; there was nothing else to do on the lot, except perhaps more jobs. So the girls washed and changed out of their working clothes and into bathing suits, putting fresh jodhpurs and shirts over the top. Rosina put a couple of flour sack towels into a saddlebag and begged some bread and cheese from the cook for a picnic.

Then they caught two of the huge horses – Florian and Pluto, one dazzling white and the other pitch black – and tacked them up.

They rode along slowly, enjoying the sunshine, heading south towards the harbour. Lula rode on the pommel in front of Rosina, chattering in monkey gibberish and pointing out things that interested her.

Rosina led the way on Florian, choosing to ride through parks and quiet backstreets rather than the busier main roads, full of cars and vans. Claire thought it felt quite strange to be riding horses in the middle of the town rather than out in the country. They trotted and cantered on the green lawns of the parkland along the harbour foreshore.

At a small cove, Rosina pulled up the horses.

‘We'll unsaddle them and go for a swim here,' Rosina suggested. ‘It's nice and shallow.'

The girls took the saddles and blankets off, and stripped down to their swimmers.

‘Down, Pluto,' Rosina ordered. The big horse lay down on the grass so it was easy for Claire to remount him. They rode down into the saltwater. Lula preferred to sit on top of the pile of saddles and watch from dry land.

The horses struck out until the water was lapping up over their backs. Claire clung on tightly. The horses whickered and snorted with pleasure. It was so much fun to swim on horseback.

Afterwards, the horses rolled in the grass to dry off, while the girls sat on their flour sack towels and ate their lunch. Lula nibbled her bread, picking out crumbs with nimble fingers.

‘This is heaven,' Claire said, staring up at the sky. ‘I could stay here for hours.'

‘It's lovely, but let's saddle up again and ride further,' Rosina suggested. ‘We can go for another swim in another cove.'

Claire lay down on her back and closed her eyes for a moment.

‘I'm going,' came a teasing voice from Rosina.

Claire sighed and struggled to her feet. ‘Oh, all right then,' she complained.

They rode further east until they came to Kirribilli, with all its grand waterfront mansions.

‘Oh, look,' said Rosina. ‘There's Kit's house.'

Claire had a sneaking suspicion that it was no accident that they had managed to ride so close to Kit's house.

‘Do you think we should drop in?' Claire suggested with a cheeky grin.

Rosina flushed and pretended to be nonchalant. ‘Oh, no – I'm sure he's probably busy. Besides, his father would have a fit.'

They rode closer. ‘Is that a police car parked outside Kit's house?' Claire asked with a frown.

‘And another one parked in the driveway?' Rosina added. ‘I wonder what's happening.'

The girls rode their horses closer. Claire felt a niggling, nervous feeling in her stomach at the sight of the two police cars. The car on the street had two police officers sitting in the front, watching Kit's house closely.

‘Do you think something's wrong?' asked Claire. ‘Perhaps something has happened to Kit.'

‘Surely not,' Rosina said. ‘It must just be a routine check.'

‘With two police cars?' asked Claire.

‘I think we should keep going,' Rosina suggested. ‘Mr Hunter made it very clear that we were not welcome.'

Claire stopped Pluto outside Kit's garden and peered through the wrought-iron fence.

The house looked quiet. Just then the front door opened and two policemen came out, accompanied by the housekeeper, Mrs Bruce. She looked as though she had been crying.

‘Come on, Rosina,' insisted Claire. ‘Something's up. We need to make sure Kit's all right.'

Claire urged Pluto to walk through the gate and onto the gravel driveway. Pluto picked up his feathered hooves delicately. Rosina hung back on Florian.

‘Hello, Mrs Bruce,' called Claire brightly. ‘I'm Claire Stanton, and this is Rosina Sterling. We're Kit's friends. Remember, we were here last night? We just popped by to see him. Is he home?'

The housekeeper looked at Claire and burst into tears. The policemen looked exasperated. Claire felt her stomach knot. She knew something had happened to Kit – something terrible.

‘Is everything all right, Mrs Bruce?' asked Claire. ‘Can we help you?'

‘He's gone,' wailed Mrs Bruce. ‘Someone's taken him. He's been kidnapped, just like that poor child of Charles Lindbergh.'

Claire looked at Rosina in horror. Everyone had been talking about the Lindbergh kidnapping in New Jersey. Three weeks previously the famous aviator's toddler had been snatched from his cot while his parents were in another part of the house. The criminals had demanded a huge ransom, but there was still no sign of the child.

Claire slid off Pluto's back. Rosina urged Florian closer.

One of the police officers looked around. ‘Mrs Bruce, we don't know what's happened yet, but we'll leave two of our police officers on guard. You call us if anything more turns up. And phone us as soon as Mr Hunter gets home.'

At the mention of her employer's name, Mrs Bruce sobbed once more. ‘I don't want to be here on my own, Detective Drummond. They might come back.'

The police officer put his notebook and pen away in his pocket. ‘Now, now, Mrs Bruce, two of my officers will be here, just out the front. You'll be perfectly safe.'

Claire thrust her reins into Rosina's hands. ‘Mrs Bruce, can I make you a nice cup of tea?' asked Claire, smiling sympathetically. ‘Rosina and I can stay with you for a while, at least until Mr Hunter gets back.'

Mrs Bruce nodded and wiped her eyes. ‘Thank you. Thank you very much. I'd appreciate that.'

The police officer looked at Claire gratefully. ‘That would be very helpful. We need to get back to the station.'

Rosina tied the two horses up to graze in the front lawn then followed Claire and Mrs Bruce into the entrance hall of the house. At once they could see that something terrible had happened. Paintings were missing from the walls. Paper and books were strewn over the floor, emptied from various drawers and shelves. There were streaks of what looked suspiciously like blood smeared on the floor.

Claire swallowed when she saw the blood.

Mrs Bruce wrung her handkerchief between her fingers. She led the way to the back of the house to the kitchen, a pale yellow room with blue cupboards, a huge gas range and a black-and-white chequered floor. Claire pulled a chair out at the small kitchen table for Mrs Bruce to sit down. Rosina sat down next to her.

Claire filled the kettle, put it on the hob to boil and found all the makings for tea.

‘Mrs Bruce,' Claire began, ‘can you please tell us what happened?'

Mrs Bruce seemed to calm down in the comforting environment of her own kitchen.

‘It's Sunday, so most of the staff have the day off,' explained Mrs Bruce. ‘Mr Hunter went out early this morning in his car, to do something for that Captain de Groot, who's being held in custody.' She glanced at Claire then Rosina, and wiped her eyes. ‘Master Kit had an excursion planned. He also wanted to deliver some of the leftovers from the party to a friend, so he took a few baskets of food in the car. Larry drove him.'

Claire set out some cups from the dresser and poured milk in a small jug.

‘There was no one home,' continued Mrs Bruce, ‘so I finished tidying up a few things from last night then went to church. I came back at about midday to find the front door wide open, the back door smashed in, the house in chaos, dozens of paintings stolen and blood on the floor.'

She sobbed again and buried her face in the handkerchief.

‘It must have been terrifying,' said Claire, patting her on the shoulder.

‘But how do you know someone took Kit?' asked Rosina, looking looked pale and worried.

‘I don't know,' said Mrs Bruce. ‘At first I thought it was just a burglary, so I telephoned the police. They came to investigate, and I was just showing them around the house when I found a note on the hall table. It had been typed on the typewriter in Mr Hunter's office. Detective Drummond took the note with him when he left.'

Claire poured out three cups of milky tea and placed one in front of the housekeeper.

Mrs Bruce stirred sugar into her cup. ‘The spelling on the note was terrible, but it said, “We have taken your son, Christopher. Do not call the police. We will kill him unless you pay a ransom of twenty thousand pounds. We will telephone with instructions to deliver the ransom.”' Mrs Bruce sobbed. ‘There was a bloodstain on the bottom of the note.'

Claire breathed in deeply and went cold with fear. Her brain started ticking through everything that she'd heard, searching for information – anything that might be useful.

‘Twenty
thousand
pounds?' gasped Rosina. ‘That's a fortune.'

‘I shouldn't have called the police,' sobbed Mrs Bruce, ‘but I didn't know what else to do. I don't know when Mr Hunter will be back.'

‘How do you know Kit came back from his friend's house?' asked Claire.

‘His hat was on the front hall table,' explained Mrs Bruce. ‘The car was parked in the garage, but Larry must have gone out after dropping Master Kit home. His uniform was in his room, but he's not here.'

Claire rubbed her forehead, thinking. ‘Who would do this? Who would do such a terrible thing?'

Rosina put her cup down on the table. ‘There are thousands of desperate, poverty-stricken people in Sydney,' Rosina said. ‘Crime has been rampant since the depression began – robberies, murders, muggings and cutthroat razor gangs. The papers have been full of the Lindbergh kidnapping.'

Rosina gestured around the room. ‘A family like the Hunters must be a tempting target.'

‘We have an armed watchman at night, but he doesn't work on Sundays either,' added Mrs Bruce.

‘Did the police find out anything that you know of?' asked Claire. ‘Were there any clues at all?'

Mrs Bruce nodded. ‘The gardener next door was coming back home and saw a small blue van parked in the driveway. Two men in white overalls were loading something into it. He did think it was odd that they were doing pick-ups on a Sunday, but he didn't take any further notice until the police approached him asking questions.' Mrs Bruce shook her head. ‘The gall of them to break into the house in broad daylight on a Sunday morning. I just can't believe this is really happening.'

The telephone began to ring shrilly in the hall. Mrs Bruce went to answer it. Claire and Rosina exchanged nervous glances.

‘We shouldn't get involved,' Rosina whispered, biting her lip. ‘We shouldn't even be here. Police and circus folk don't mix well. And Kit's father hates us.'

Claire shook her head. ‘We have to do something.'

The girls finished their tea. Claire rinsed the teacups and set them on the draining board.

Mrs Bruce returned to the kitchen. She looked somewhat relieved. ‘That was Detective Drummond calling from the police station,' she explained. ‘They've contacted Mr Hunter and he's on his way home. The detective is meeting him here in a quarter of an hour.'

Claire stood up. ‘Well, in that case, Rosina and I will be on our way, Mrs Bruce. We don't want to get in the way of the police.'

Mrs Bruce nodded. ‘Thank you, girls, for your company. It helped having someone to talk to.'

‘That's a pleasure, Mrs Bruce,' replied Claire. ‘I hope with all my heart that the police find Kit safe and well.'

The girls hurried out of the house, keen to be gone before Mr Hunter returned. The horses were happily cropping the grass on the front lawn. Claire was just preparing to mount when Larry walked through the front gate, wearing ordinary street clothes and a flat woollen cap. He looked completely different not dressed in his uniform. He had his shoulders hunched and was smoking a cigarette.